His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. I see that compromise is more necessary to life than I ignorantly supposed it to be, and I have been trying to get Lord Morley’s book on that subject, but it does not appear to be available in the prison library, and the chaplain seems to regard him as an undesirable writer. " "How long will you be here?" "To-morrow night. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him. Don’t stand gawping, man. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. Naturally he was a member of the National Honor Society and a straight A student on the Honor Roll. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel.
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